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I recently spent an hour of one of my afternoons volunteering in our school's food pantry. It's open twice a month on a regular schedule, and by appointment if/when needed, as a local extension of the Food Bank of Iowa. One of the women waiting in line was a woman who I would guess is in her mid to late 60s. When it was her turn to gather items she had a few questions since it was her first visit. She also had some age related physical limitations, so I stayed near her to help her as she needed. Her eyes lit up when she saw the case of apples that were available that day and asked if I would help her by picking her out a half dozen or so of the not so nice apples so she could make an apple crisp with them. She said she wanted to leave the nice ones for families with kids who would eat them fresh. At one point as I was helping her, she apologized for having so many questions. She then explained that she was a survivor of domestic abuse and that until her husband's recent death, she had not been allowed to go many places and never alone. She felt overwhelmed by all the choices and she couldn't get over the feeling that when she reached out for something she was going to get in trouble. She was so sweet, and so thankful, and I wish I would have asked her name to validate her as an individual, not as someone's property to control, as she had been treated for so many years.

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I could be the poster child for birth control options given my history of use. I have inserted, injected, and ingested the whole range of hormonal birth control options. I've had side affects from frequent bleeding (every 7-10 days for over 2 years), to a systemic allergic reaction (which made it nearly impossible to pick-up my 9 month old for a couple of days), to mood swings so sever I felt like I was going out of my mind. Frequent condom use tends to give me irritation and UTI infection issues. So after Brea's birth, when we were pretty sure we were done having kids and open to long term birth control, but not sure we were ready to chose a permanent option, my doctor suggested a non-hormonal IUD. I'd have to visit Planned Parenthood to have one inserted, but both she and I (and my close friend who is a physician) felt it was a good fit for my needs. I will admit, I was nervous visiting Planned Parenthood because, growing up in a small town, I had preconceived notions about WHAT Planned Parenthood was and WHO went there. I asked a friend to go with me for my appointment, partially because I didn't know if I would be up to driving the hour home after the IUD insertion, and partially because I didn't want to go alone.


The level of care I received that day was top notch. From the receptionist to the care providers who performed the insertion, I was treated with kindness, respect, patience, and friendly smiles. And as I watched how the staff interacted with every person who came to the clinic that day while I was there, I realized that was just the NORMAL way patients and visitors were treated. Period. While I have always tended to be pro-choice leaning when discussions were had about Planned Parenthood, on that day when I was a patient in one of their clinics I realized it's about SO MUCH MORE than just the hot button topic of PP and abortion services. It's about affordable, accessible, respectful, safe, friendly care for EVERYONE who walks through the doors of Planned Parenthood regardless of financial need, age, skin color, or services required. It allows women who otherwise might choose not to care for their own health needs because of cost, accessibility, or the shame caused by other's opinions, to care for their own health needs.

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Over the past 20 years I have had 3 women in my life share their sexual assault stories with me. Three women spanning 3 generations in age. Three women that represent white, middle class, small town America. Women who were all assaulted by well known acquaintances. Some would have even called those acquaintances friends. Friends who were known not only by the women themselves, but by their families. Women who buried the secret and shame of their sexual assault, sometimes for decades, until their souls could no longer carry the weight alone. Women who have not let their assault define them, but who have gone on to do amazing things. Knowing them well, I know they will continue to do so until their final days.

According to a 2010 survey report published by the CDC, 1 in 5 women have been sexually assaulted in their lifetime. I'm sure none of the women who have trusted me with their assault story expected to be the 1 in that frightening statistic. I don't know a single woman who would wish to be the 1...or who are willing to extend much trust or respect towards anyone who through their actions, or their words, contributes to a culture that allows that statistic to be the reality for far too many women.

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I have sat down to finish and publish this post several times over the past week as my heart has grown heavier and heavier with worry about the direction our new administration is driving our country. Today's news that will directly affect the education world, a world I have found myself digging into deeper and deeper over the past several years, was the breaking point for me to sit down and complete my thoughts for publication. I need the therapy that comes through the process of reflection for writing.

Since the day after the November elections I have consumed news from a variety of outlets in volumes I would have never dreamed I could consume. Life has seemed a bit surreal over the past 10 days as I've watched the political divide in our nation growing ever wider. As I have watched millions of US citizens, leaders of many other countries, and the citizens the world voice their concerns that mirror so many of my own. As I have watched issues that are important to me, issues that I feel have no business being, science, our environment, religious freedom, healthcare, basic rights for everyone regardless of age, gender, race, or sexual orientation...become tick marks in the win column for an administration that seems more interested in "winning", no matter the cost, than respecting the diverse nation for whom they are playing.

As a young child, I moved often with my family. From the time I started kindergarten, until the end of my elementary school years in 6th grade, I attended 6 schools. So even though I grew up in a mostly white, mostly conservative, entirely heterosexual (as far as I knew), almost exclusively Christian part of our country, I am far from a carbon copy of that environment. As much as I have struggled with not feeling rooted to a past that I can call my "home", I am increasingly thankful that my childhood experiences did much to strengthen by ability to extend empathy towards others. As a shy, somewhat awkward introvert who was constantly finding herself in the roll of the new girl in the class, I know very well what it's like to feel alone. To feel different. To feel like less than those around you. To feel like an easy target for bullies. So while my experiences may be different in both scale and scope, I can empathize with those individuals who are feeling marginalized in today's political environment. I don't have to share skin color, or religious beliefs, or sexual preferences, or anything more than the fact we both belong to the human species, to have compassion for my fellow humans, and to understand how much it TOTALLY FUCKING SUCKS to be bullied simply for BEING.

I marched because issues that directly affect people's well-being should not be political playing pieces for our government's officials to push around in their ever shifting power game.

I marched for the world I am passing on to my daughters.

I marched because I believe in the power peaceful protest.

I marched because I believe love is greater than hate.

I marched because in this crazy world that makes me feel anxious and scared more often than I'd like to admit, I needed to take care of myself mind, body, and soul. I needed to feel, if even just for a few hours, that even in the face of the political chaos swirling around us at the moment, it's gonna be okay.

I marched, because I have to believe that in the end, it's gonna be okay.

It has to fucking be okay...



My Most Read Thoughts


Today while I sat in a classroom supervising students as they worked on their math assignments, I watched Lexi through the window enjoying time with her friends during recess. My heart smiled.

Those moments, moments of learning and carefree fun, those are the moments that SHOULD make up a school day. As a Mom, and an elementary school employee, my heart is breaking over the news and images coming out of Connecticut today. 
I send my kids off to school everyday without a second thought that they will return safely come day's end, just as I'm sure each one of those parents in Newtown did this morning.
Every day I walk into my school for work without a second thought to my personal safety, just as I'm sure each of those teachers, paras, custodians, sectretaries, etc in Newtown did this morning. 
Theories will be published. Evidence will be presented. Words will be exchanged about gun control and the need for change in our current culture of violence. I don't suspec…

DIY: Reusable Produce Bags

With Earth Day festivities gearing up for tomorrow, I thought I'd take a moment to post a short DIY tutorial on making your own reusable cloth produce bags. (Tutorial inspired by my favorite crafty mom blog, Crazy Mom Quilts. Produce bags inspired by running into my friend Laura at the grocery store while she was stuffing her produce into these.) This is my next step in the fight against the excessive use of plastic bags.

Our family has been making small environmentally minded changes in our daily lives over the past few years. We use reusable shopping bags. We've stopped buying/using Ziploc bags and plastic wrap. I'm trying to commute around town via bike more. I'm being more mindful about where the food we buy comes from and how it was produced. We more often hang our laundry on the line to dry in the spring and summer instead of just throwing it in the dryer. (Which is convenient at the moment since our dryer has decided to quit drying.) As we use up chemically clean…

Sunday Morning Silly...

Once in a while Dando's curiosity urges him to venture off the bookshelf so he check out other toys in the house.

I think he thinks Froggy is missing a few marbles.